


It's Not an Obsession

by Geri_Lea



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Obsession, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:24:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geri_Lea/pseuds/Geri_Lea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian develops a tiny obsession when he stumbles across the relationship Mark has with Fernando.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetpeapoppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetpeapoppy/gifts).



> There will be content of dubious consent, verging on non-consent by the end of this fic.

This isn’t a press conference that Sebastian particularly wants to be a part of; not that he’s ever eager for any press conference mind you. But the moment that he knew that he would share the front row with Mark and Fernando this weekend he was hoping he’d come down with a severe case of 24 hour food poisoning just to avoid being near them, _together_. It was one thing to be paired up with Mark and having to pretend he gave a shit about his teammate in any form, but it was another to have to be paired anywhere near Mark _and_ Fernando. Those two seemed to have become inseparable this season, more than ever and being in the presence of both them at the same time, all Sebastian swore he could feel was waves of anger and resentment.  
  
Not that he cares. He doesn’t. He hates both of them. They can have their stupid club where they hate him together. He doesn’t care. Not at all. Nope. Not one bit.  
  
He arrives after both of them and he takes his seat to the right of Fernando, Mark on the other side of the Spaniard, both laughing in hushed whispers. He lets out a huff and scowls as both of them blatantly ignore him. He didn’t care though, he didn’t need either of their acknowledgement. Drilling his fingers on the desk in front of him he listens to both of them next him, talking about some bike ride they were going to do together.  
  
The thought of Mark and Fernando spending time together _away_ from the track had Sebastian squirm in his seat. They had to talk about it with him right there, rub it in his face, and remind him that not only were they such good _mates_ but enough that Mark would _sabotage his_ championship campaign when he could. Brazil 2012 flashes across his mind sharply and his scowl grows, he doesn’t care that Christian hadn’t wanted to hear his ‘conspiracy’ theories about Mark and Fernando, he knew the truth.  
  
There’s movement next him, quick, almost imperceptible in Sebastian’s peripheral vision, but it’s enough to make him turn his head to look, trying to catch sight of what had caught his attention. And then he sees it, Mark’s hand resting on Fernando’s thigh. He stares, can’t see tear his eyes off it, both of them are still blabbering away as Sebastian watches the flick in Mark’s fingertips, the change of pressure he gently applies in a mesmerising rhythm over Fernando’s black shorts. There’s no way that touch could be considered friendly… could it?  
  
There’s shuffling behind them, the last of the drivers arriving just as things were ready to get started. And Sebastian is forced to stop staring at Fernando’s lap, but not before he sees Mark’s hand slide to his bare knee, thumb flicking across his knee cap before both his hands appear on the desk in front of him.  
  
Sebastian tears his eyes to the front of the room, mouth going dry as he tries to process what he’d just seen. Mark and Fernando? More than friends? That’s the most ridiculous idea ever, despite whatever rumours Jenson tried to spread through the paddock. It’s nonsense. It’s so much so that he actually snorts at himself for even having the thought, shaking his head mentally to clear himself from the idea.  
  
But it doesn’t erase the memory, not of Mark’s hand on Fernando’s thigh, but of his thumb brushing bare flesh; a gesture that held far more intimacy than words would do justice. A thumb that circles in his mind endlessly across smooth flesh. Mark’s thumb on Fernando’s skin.  
  
*  
  
Sebastian didn’t mean to stare but he can’t help it, his eyes seem to be drawn to his teammate more and more, particularly his hands. Like now, instead of listening to Rocky telling him information about the upcoming practice he was staring at Mark, watching as he stands at the back of his car, one hand absently stroking the rear wing as he chatted to his mechanics. It was sort of hypnotic, the sweep of Mark’s hand, always the same stroke, same pressure it looked… soothing.  
  
“Sebastian!” Heikki hisses loudly in his ear, dragging him back to the now and a very cross looking Rocky.  
  
“I’m listening,” he snaps turning to glare at his trainer before staring determinedly at Rocky. “I was listening.” Rocky though snaps his folder closed and walks away.  
  
“Where is your head Sebastian?” Heikki murmurs, moving to stand between him and his line of sight between him and teammate.  
  
“Nowhere,” he mumbles, flushing out of guilt more than anything. Turning away he goes to his bench to put in his ear phones. He closes his eyes trying to focus. But there it was, Mark’s hand, stroking.  
  
But it wasn’t the rear wing Mark’s hand was moving across and stroking… it was a knee and it wasn’t his. It has his eyes snap open immediately and he sucks in his breath. He needed to un-see everything between Mark and Fernando.  
  
Whipping around Sebastian’s nostrils flares as he glares at Mark. He doesn’t want to be thinking of Mark and Fernando, he doesn’t give a shit about them and he certainly doesn’t need to know what the hell was going on between those two. Mark gaze catches his, forehead furrowing in confusion at his heated stare and Sebastian hates him a little more. Mark raises his eyebrows and Sebastian squeezes his music player tightly, determined to not be the first one to look away.  
  
Mark stares back, a smile slowly spreading across his face right before his view was obstructed by the large body of Heikki. Once more his trainer was fixing him a cold stare and Sebastian scowls at him and knowing that Heikki was going to open his big mouth and tell him to stop it. Sebastian turns the volume up till his ears hurt and there was no sound, only the lips of his trainer moving.  
  
As if knowing, Heikki reaches out and flicks Sebastian right in the middle of the forehead. “Ow!”  
  
“Focus!” Heikki orders the moment Sebastian rips out his earplugs. “What is wrong with you today?”  
  
He does. He tries anyway. At least when he’s in the car he has no trouble keeping his mind in check. No more thinking of Mark, or his hands, and those hands wandering on bare knees. There‘s just him, the car and track. Simple. Easy. But when it’s over, practice done the first thing Sebastian does after taking his helmet off is to look across the garage to watch Mark unzip his race suit.  
  
Feeling Heikki looming over him disapprovingly, he looks over and asks, “Do you think he’s gay?”  
  
The question sees Heikki’s usually cool exterior falter, eyes widening, clearly not expecting the question. Whatever Heikki’s response was going to be when he opened his mouth never makes it out when Christian wanders over to clamp a hand on his shoulder, before praising his times. Sebastian though is only half listening, watching as Mark walks out the back of the garage and he feels a little better knowing Heikki’s gaze was planted on his departing teammate’s back as well.  
  
*  
  
  
Mark was keeping his distance, seemingly more amused than anything else at Sebastian’s sudden interest. Sebastian though was unable to take the opportunity and reel himself in, for that proved to be impossible with Mark. Driver parades suddenly become a stare fest and Sebastian finds himself positioning himself in Mark’s line of sight. And Fernando’s. Now they seem even more in separable than ever before.  
  
Kimi waves his hand in front of his vision at one point. “Staring is rude.”  
  
Sebastian tears his gaze off Mark and Fernando leaning against the rail together, eyes fixed where their elbows were pressed together. “Sorry what were you saying?” He hopes the blush that was heating his face wasn’t noticeable.  
  
Kimi though was giving him this half smirk, one that said the Finn probably had a very good idea what he’d been staring at. “They’re fucking if you were wondering,” Kimi shrugs like it isn’t a big deal or a big secret.  
  
“I wasn’t wondering,” Sebastian snaps, face burning brighter while his chest began to tighten inexplicably at Kimi’s response. “I don’t care.” There’s no way Mark and Fernando were fucking, neither of them were gay. It’s ridiculous. “And they’re not.”  
  
“Whatever,” Kimi leans back looking bored and Sebastian shifts his weight from one foot to the other trying to drop it.  
  
“Okay. _Why_ do you _think_ they’re…” He can’t bring himself to say the word, not when a journalist drifts closer. Kimi was smirking at him and he huffs in frustration.  
  
“I don’t think. I know.” And Kimi sucks at his drink bottle and Sebastian knew that was Kimi telling him that would be all he’d get. Annoyed and with his chest feeling tighter than ever, Sebastian falls silent and ignores his friend, choosing to wave to the fans instead. He hates that Kimi would probably prefer giving him the cold shoulder than an actual conversation.  
  
When he exits from the back of the truck, he slips in behind Mark and Fernando, eyes fixed on their movements, every gesture they made to each other. But there’s nothing, no different to how the Williams drivers walk off together. There’s nothing, Kimi was simply pulling his leg. He’s letting this eat at him and there’s no reason for it to.  
  
When Mark and Fernando part, Sebastian chokes on his energy drink when for the briefest moment, the two drivers in front of him clasp hands, a squeeze shared before Fernando jogs ahead to catch up with Felipe. No. No. No. His head screams at him, it just isn’t possible. It’s inconceivable. He stumbles when someone bumps into his shoulder harshly.  
  
Kimi. And he was laughing. “I told you Seb.” He winks at him and Sebastian glowers after him. Hating that Kimi had been watching him. Hating that he might have been wrong. He wasn’t _ever_ wrong.  
  
Drifting back to the Red Bull motorhomes, Sebastian’s head begins to fill with a new flood of questions to join the chorus of ‘are they fucking or not’. Questions of ‘Since when?’ and ‘how much?’ and ‘how _serious_ was it, was there a _them_?’  
  
But he had no answers. He had _nothing_. Nothing but a stupid claim from Kimi.  
  
*  
  
Sebastian was meant to attend dinner with Heikki and Britta tonight, but both seem to be running late, or standing him up. He isn’t sure which, both seem to be getting increasingly annoyed with him of late. Standing in the foyer of their hotel, he taps his room card in the palm of his hand and glares at the elevators. He’s going to fire them, both of them. He’s going to…  
  
His thoughts cut off when the doors for the elevator open revealing his teammate. Sebastian squeezes his room card tightly in his hand, the plastic bending under the force as Mark steps out, looking clean and fresh and Sebastian’s insides does a slow somersault at the sight. There aren’t many occasions when he sees Mark dressed up so neatly, looking so… His mind trails off unable to think of a word, he shouldn’t be out of words at the sight of Mark dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He shouldn’t.  
  
Licking his lips unconsciously he can’t remember the last time he had looked at Mark like this and felt so much… _wanting._ He follows Mark’s quick steps across the lobby, not even a glance cast in Sebastian’s direction as he breezes past. Sebastian turns, steps after him on impulse, before coming to an abrupt stop.  
  
Fernando.  
  
Watching Mark’s face break into a smile, seeing how quickly the brooding expression Mark wore disappears at the sight of the Ferrari driver has Sebastian’s chest rush with hate while his heart began to beat quicker. Were they going on a date? Every possible situation of that scenario roared furiously through Sebastian’s head as his eyes scanned them both from head to toe, not wanting to miss any tiny detail. And with each movement between them Sebastian’s stomach fills with a sickening weight.  
  
 _Fernando’s hand brushes the small of Mark’s back._  
  
 _Mark’s arm grazes Fernando’s._  
  
 _Heads bend together._  
  
 _Coy smiles._  
  
 _Hushed whispers._  
  
 _Fernando’s fingers brushing Mark’s side before their caught by Mark’s._  
  
Sebastian’s card cracks in his hand, eyes fixed on Mark’s fingers _still_ gripping Fernando’s. Still, squeezing, still touching. It feels like the most he’d ever seen, the touch still unbroken and Sebastian wets his lips, feeling light headed. This isn’t real. _This isn’t happening!_  
  
Both Fernando and Mark begin moving, but not towards the front doors. Sebastian works out their path before they reach the fire door for the stairwells. But he doesn’t move, his head trying to replay what he had just seen, tries to piece it all together, tries to prove and then disprove the theory he had been consumed with for the last few weeks. A theory he knows is true before he even follows their footsteps to the door they’d both disappeared through a few minutes earlier.  
  
He would never be able to explain to anyone why he was following, especially if he knew what was on the other side of the door. He does hesitate, hand resting on the door handle before pushing it down slowly after committing himself to the decision.  
  
Stepping into the concrete room, door closing behind him silently has Sebastian aware of how heavily he’s breathing. Each breath seems to echo loudly, and he struggles to get himself under control as his eyes glance around. The sound of a sharp gasp draws his eyes upwards and he shakily climbs the stairs. He bites down on his lip hard to keep quiet, to silence his breathing as he tiptoes up, telling himself he wants a peek, one definitive glance to confirm everything.  
  
He should have prepared himself better, should have thought about what he’d see, but he’s not sure he could have even come up with the image in front of him. The room card in his hand falls to the floor as he backs up against the wall, eyes fixed on the sight before him, teeth threatening to push through his lip.  
  
 _Mark on his knees._  
  
 _Fernando standing, back pressed to the wall._  
  
 _Mark’s fingers pushed into Fernando’s hips._  
  
 _Fernando’s fingers twisting in Mark’s hair._  
  
 _The moans falling from Fernando’s parted lips as Mark’s head moves in a quick rhythm._  
  
Sebastian feels like he can’t catch his breath, the room suddenly lacking air. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight in front of him, flicking between Mark kneeling, and Fernando’s parted lips where moans where beginning to spill. And when he finally reconciles with what he’s seeing, Mark on _his knees_ and _blowing_ Fernando Alonso, Sebastian is overcome by an overwhelming urge to scream, to tear Fernando’s fingers from Mark’s hair, to tear Mark away from him.  
  
No. No. _No!_  
  
Still frozen but now gasping for breath, Sebastian’s fingers curl and uncurl into fists by his side. Not real. Not happening. And yet the image in front of him doesn’t change. Fernando is still slumped against the wall, looking more and more undone with each passing moment. Mark is still on his knees, head moving and the sounds of slurping and muffled moans burning Sebastian’s ears. This needs to stop. They need to stop.  
  
And maybe he actually voiced the word ‘stop’ aloud. Maybe his strangled breaths suddenly grew enough in volume to garner the attention of the Spaniard and alert him to his presence. Brown eyes flutter open, a strangled moan escaping bitten lips, eyes widening for a moment. It has Sebastian backing up, nearly tripping down the steps.  
  
“More.” Fernando gasps, eyes still fixed on Sebastian and beneath the burning lust, Sebastian can see the silent challenge. _Stay or run?_  
  
Suddenly running was the last thing on Sebastian’s mind and he steels his gaze and sneers at him. It only has Fernando grin, hips starting to thrust and hearing Mark gag sends shivers through Sebastian. The heat from Sebastian’s anger fades, twists into something that Sebastian wasn’t expecting. Arousal.  
  
A few more uncontrolled thrusts from Fernando and Mark’s fingers press harder into Fernando’s hips, pinning them harder against the wall and does _something_ that has the other man bite his lip hard and buckle over, clearly brought to the edge. Sebastian licks his lips, hand coming up to grip the stone wall next to him, fingers scratching at the rock as he tries to not lose control and do something stupid, like touch himself.  
  
But the images twist in front of him. It’s him against the wall. It’s Mark on his knees _for him_. That simple thought nearly has Sebastian’s knees give from under him, gasping aloud as a strangled cry escapes the pinned man, Fernando finally reaching his climax. And Mark doesn’t pull back, takes everything and it has Sebastian trembling, Mark swallowing suddenly a part of his own fantasy, Mark, knees and his mouth. And no hands. Sebastian wouldn’t let him use his hands…  
  
“I did say to be silent.” Mark’s voice sounded slightly hoarse as he pulls back enough to look up at the wrecked image of Fernando.  
  
“Si,” Fernando rasped, fingers running through Mark’s hair as he lifts his gaze back up to Sebastian’s. “Too good, your mouth is too good…”  
  
Sebastian’s fingers push into the wall and he seethes, knowing without a doubt that Fernando was rubbing that in his face.  
  
“What mate?”  
  
And Sebastian turns and flees knowing that Mark had caught on that something was amiss. And there’s no way he can deal with being sprung upon by the both of them. He takes the stairs two at a time, rips the door open to the stairwell and immediately gasps for air, feeling like he hadn’t breathed in minutes. Hands in his hair he spins around, disorientated for a moment and needing an escape, needing to be far away from here and far from _them._  
  
He’s at the elevators when his name is called across the hotel foyer. His finger jabs at the button harder wondering why everything seemed to be going so slow…  
  
“Sebastian!” Heikki’s hand was on his shoulder spinning him around to stare at him. “Where have you been…” Heikki though had trailed off, the annoyance in his features fading to concern, “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I’m not feeling well. I need to lie down.” He hadn’t meant to whisper to sound so _weak_. But at least it went well with his excuse. “Upset stomach,” he continues hoping that would be enough of a reason to keep Heikki from him for the evening. His eyes dart towards the fire escape, stomach twisting over when Mark and Fernando appear.  
  
“I’ll let Britta know and come and look after you,” Heikki squeezes his shoulder.  
  
“I’m fine,” Sebastian snaps spinning back around the moment Mark glanced in his direction. “I’ll call you if I need you. Take Britta to dinner.” He darts into the elevator as it opens, immediately jabbing at the button of his floor. “I’m fine,” he repeats as his gaze lifts over Heikki’s shoulder to see that Mark was heading towards him.  
  
Heikki turns, frowning at the sight of Mark’s quickening approach and Sebastian’s frantic push of the close button.  
  
“I’m fine,” Sebastian says as the doors slide close though this time it was said for himself as Mark disappears from sight. He slumps against the wall in the elevator fighting the urge to crumple the floor.  
  
It’s only when he steps onto his floor, does he realise that his plan of an immediate cold shower is not going to happen. His key card lay broken in a stairwell. Fuck. Fuck he hates this weekend.  
  
By the time he ventures back down to get a replacement card the foyer is empty of anyone that needs avoiding. No one to stop him, remind him of things he wishes he hadn’t seen till he was back in his room, door looked behind him. And no longer requiring the cold shower Sebastian heads to the bed immediately turning on the TV. He needed something to distract him, _something_ to keep his mind wandering, he needed to think of _anything_ but Mark on his knees.  
  
*  
  
Sebastian is in the midst of his brushing his teeth when the large body of his trainer appears in the doorway of his suite’s bathroom. Sebastian spits and ignores the cold look Heikki’s giving to flash him the most dazzling smile he could manage with his now clean pearly whites.  
  
“Don’t,” Heikki bites. “I want to talk to you.”  
  
“That’s good. If you didn’t talk to me it would make your job much harder.” Rinsing his mouth Sebastian refuses to bow to the voice in his head telling him that firing Heikki up may not make this conversation any easier. He doesn’t want this conversation, he’s doing everything in his power to forget what he’d seen.  
  
“Stop it.” Heikki orders and Sebastian catches his eyes in the mirror, stiffening at the gaze. Heikki had never looked at him like that before with cold disapproval. He doesn’t like it.  
  
“Brushing my teeth or my attempts at humour?”  
  
“Starting a war with Mark. Whatever is going on, stop it. You need to focus on the race. I know something’s going on.”  
  
“You know _nothing_.”  
  
The response he gets from Heikki is his retreating back and the echo of his hotel door being slammed. Letting out a shaky breath, Sebastian grips the edge of the basin and fixes his vision on his reflection in front of him.  
  
“Better. Faster. Stronger.”  
  
He repeats the phrase, each time sounding more determined, till the words had settled as a glint in his eyes. Today there was a race, he needed focus, needed to win. And when Sebastian does head to the track, Heikki and their brief conversation is far from his mind even if his trainer is giving him the cold shoulder. None of that mattered.  
  
*  
  
Getting out of the car after the race, Sebastian feels like every molecule in his body is singing with his win. There was no greater feeling than this; winning. He could live off this high and never need anything again. But wanting more anyway he bounds from the car to the team taking every cheer, congratulations and slap of thanks and letting it feed his high.  
  
He takes the short hug from Heikki, grin even wider than before because not only did he win but he proved Heikki wrong. Sebastian can’t resist leaning across the barrier to shout at Heikki, “ _Never_ question me.”  
  
Pulled away then by race officials, Sebastian goes to be weighed, accepting handshakes from other drivers as he went. It’s only when he reviews the results does he remember that Mark and Fernando will be joining him on the podium. It’s like a needle had just started stabbing his ball of happiness threatening to burst it as he sets his feet in the direction of the pre-podium room, pace brisk.  
  
They’re already there, in a hushed excited conversation about the race. The only acknowledgement he’s given is a paused moment and a glance with forced smiles. No congratulations. No hellos. Nothing. And walking over to grab a towel to rub down he ignores the fact that Mark seems to deliberately turn his back to him, that one action enough to have his elation rush out of him and that feeling of hate and anger settle sickeningly in the pit of his stomach.  
  
The thought never crosses Sebastian’s mind to offer his congratulations. His gaze burns at the two of them, feeling more on the outside as ever when a comment from Fernando has Mark’s laugh filling the small room much too loudly. The warmth and friendship suddenly overwhelmingly suffocating.  
  
The warmth of an arm circling his shoulders was enough to tear Sebastian’s gaze from his teammate and the Ferrari driver. Christian. And unable to help himself Sebastian sags into the side of his boss before turning and hugging him tightly, possibly clinging a little too long. The embrace broken because Christian stepped away, either unaware that Sebastian was craving attention or reluctant to indulge his selfish whims in front of Mark.  
  
He watches Christian hug Mark, manly slaps on the back exchanged, brief and almost impersonal compared to the hug dished to the driver winning. There’s nothing Sebastian could do to reel in the smug smile he gave Mark. Mark should remember who the favourite was, the winner, _him_. The way Mark’s eyes darkened, the look of pure hate that suddenly fired up in that gaze has Sebastian step back unknowingly, smirk replaced with one that was far more unsure.  
  
The hand on Mark’s arm stopping his approach and Sebastian spins on his heel and hurries towards the door wanting out of the room. The image of Fernando’s fingers biting in Mark’s flesh far more of a punishment than any beating Mark may want to dish out to him.  
  
Walking out onto the podium, the mixture of boos and cheers doing nothing to lift his mood. For the first time after a race Sebastian feels smashed. Exhausted. The wave he gives the crowd holding none of its usual enthusiasm. The only comfort he has in this moment was that he was standing taller than both men beside him. And even if that was due to the steps beneath their feet Sebastian doesn’t care.  
  
*  
  
Normally the loud thumping music that blares through the speakers of the Red Bull Energy Station would be something Sebastian bounced around on, but tonight the team’s celebrations were only giving him a headache. His mood had plummeted the moment Mark had made a swift exit, his head full of all those images he couldn’t shake.  
  
 _Mark’s hand on Fernando’s knee._  
  
 _Fernando’s grasp on Mark’s arm._  
  
 _Mark on his knees for Fernando._  
  
Of all the places Sebastian wanted to be, it isn’t here. He wants to know if Mark had gone to the Ferrari motorhome, if Mark had gone to meet up with Fernando. All the not knowing is driving him crazy to the point that he’s just walking around in circles through the team in the desperate bid to be wrong and that Mark’s still here.  
  
His phone buzzing in his pocket has Sebastian come to an abrupt halt, nearly crashing into a caterer in his haste to pull it.  
  
 _Finished rubbing your win in everyone’s face? Come see me._  
  
Sebastian stills. Breathing slowing as he feels the world dissolve around him as he reads and re-reads the text. Mark wants to see him? Is it just Mark? Or is it both of them? Together? Sebastian’s mouth had gone dry as he drags in mouthfuls of air, grip on his phone crushingly tight.  
  
Unaware that he had already been walking towards the exit despite not even coming close to processing what was going on, Sebastian’s elbow is caught. He is jerked viciously backwards falling into the solidness of Heikki, caught in a pair of arms that squeeze around his chest in a bruising grip.  
  
“Give it to me,” Heikki orders, his voice not holding any anger but enough authority that Sebastian holds up his hand. He doesn’t release the phone though, he makes Heikki work to tear it from the clamped grip of his fingers.  
  
Sebastian hisses when the phone is taken from him, fingers aching from their rough treatment. He turns to face his trainer, only to see that Heikki looked furious as he read the open text.  
  
“You know this is a game for him don’t you?” Heikki’s voice is gentle, the softness in his tone enough to have Sebastian off kilter, ready for an argument that didn’t seem close to eventuating. Heikki slides his phone into his pocket and out of reach. “It’s a game and he wants to break you.”  
  
“No,” Sebastian shakes his head. Mark isn’t that stupid, they’d done the games before, and Mark had lost every time. “Mark can’t beat me, I’m better, faster…”  
Heikki’s hand flies up and grasps Sebastian’s chin tightly, face looming far too closely. “This is not about beating you on track Sebastian. He wants to _break_ you.”  
  
“Why the difference? Racing is all that matters,” Sebastian argues back though there is no venom in his tone.  
  
Heikki’s grip loosens, fingers brushing across his jaw before he sighs. “Promise me you’ll stop.”  
  
“Stop what?” Heikki isn’t making any sense and the question draws a sigh from the Finn and it has Sebastian realise how he’s just as tired. “I want to go to bed. I’m tired.”  
Heikki’s hand slides to the back of his neck, squeezes gently before he nods. “I’ll get your things. Wait for me.”  
  
Nodding has Heikki release him and sort out his exit while Sebastian slinks towards the coolness of the paddock. He breathes in the air and shoves his hands into his pockets. There are fleeting thoughts of ditching Heikki, he doesn’t need his phone to know where Mark was. They shared the same fucking floor at the hotel. He contemplates the thought too long though, Heikki by his side almost minutes later as if he’d rushed and ran to catch up with despite looking his usual impossible flawless self.  
  
Heikki escorts him to his own room without really a word shared between them. But that was fine, Sebastian didn’t want to talk. He kicks off his shoes and stumbles to his bed and falls face first down deciding getting changed was too much effort.  
  
He is aware that Heikki was still in the room and when he rolls over he watches Heikki sort out his things. “Can I have my phone back?”  
  
“In the morning, after your flight and when you’re safely in another country.”  
  
“You’re being ridiculous,” Sebastian grunts getting up to pull the blankets down.  
  
“What’s ridiculous is your new found obsession you have with Mark,” Heikki responds coolly. “I just can’t work out what the hell triggered it.”  
  
 _Thumb circling over flesh._  
  
 _Arms brushing arms._  
  
 _Fingers scrunched in hair._  
  
 _Muffled moans around cock._  
  
“Nothing triggered anything. I don’t have an obsession!” Rolling over Sebastian refuses to face Heikki any longer. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He stiffens when the bed dips and he feels Heikki press in behind him.  
  
There’s the reassuring press of Heikki’s hand between his shoulder blades before Sebastian is treated to comforting strokes down his back. Each pass has Sebastian feel the tension flow out of his body, from the race, the pressure and Mark… Closing his eyes he sighs contentedly letting Heikki continue to rub his back.  
  
“Promise me something,” Heikki murmurs each pass of his hand getting lighter as Sebastian drifts closer to sleep.  
  
“Mmmm,” Sebastian murmurs in acknowledgement.  
  
“That you’ll stay away from Mark. He doesn’t love you back.”  
  
Heikki’s words prickle uncomfortably but he’s too tired to process them fully. All he manages is a breathed out, “Kay…” before he’s sucked into the world of sleep, where red and blue swirl around him and nothing he does seems to allow to get close enough to either.  
  
*  
  
Heikki keeps his promise and Sebastian gets his phone back when he’s home. It’s flat since he hadn’t been given the chance to charge it before travelling.  
  
“Don’t forget your promise to me,” Heikki says as the phone slips from his fingers.  
  
“It’s not an obsession,” Sebastian promises, forcing a brief smile. “I can look after myself.”  
  
“Just not hold your own umbrella?” Heikki raises an eyebrow and Sebastian grins feeling them return to their usual easy going relationship.  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
Heikki heads off not long after that and Sebastian puts his phone on the charger and turns it back on. He tells himself he doesn’t care if he gets any messages or not, doesn’t care if Mark hadn’t texted him since the last one as he sets about fixing himself lunch.  
  
The moment his phone has enough charge it dings with messages. He ignores it but the messages keep coming, his phone vibrating across the bench top. His lunch forgotten, Sebastian’s eyes fixed on his beeping phone, he’d stopped counting the messages after 10 and it’s still going. Unable to deny himself the not knowing any longer, Sebastian dives across the bench and snatches it up. The preview of his texts show he has twenty messages from Mark, and nineteen from an unknown number.  
  
He scrolls back to the first message from Mark and opening it up, his heart speeding up in anticipation.  
  
 _I take it your absence means you chickened out. Was going to congratulate you on your win._  
  
Sebastian snorts at that. Mark congratulate him? Unless it was with a shovel or something sharp, he doubted that very much.  
  
 _How about we send you a gift for each of your wins?_  
  
Sebastian sucks in his breath at the ‘we’. He doesn’t need someone to tell him who he was referring to and there’s now no doubt that Mark knew he’d seen him. Anger and embarrassment were fighting for dominance as he quickly flicks to the next message.  
  
It’s a picture. The phone isn’t focused, but there’s stubble and flesh and blinking a few times he can make out one face pressing into the throat of another. Sebastian’s throat clamps shut, fingers tightening around the phone as his face burns.  
  
The next messages comes from the unknown number. _Fernando_. Sebastian’s mouth immediately fills with a bad taste as he scowls at the phone. Fingers curled around a bicep, _Mark’s_ bicep, gripping him like Fernando owned him. Breathing hard Sebastian quickly skips through all the photos, trying desperately not to linger on any just wanting them all to be unread.  
  
 _Mouths and tongues._  
  
 _Hands in pants._  
  
 _Hands in hair._  
  
 _Bruised flesh._  
  
 _Bite marks._  
  
It doesn’t end, it seems to stream on forever and Sebastian can’t clear them fast enough, shaking and struggling to breathe as he frantically scrolls them all. He’d won 38 races, and he’d been sent 38 photos. The moment he had flicked through each one, Sebastian rips his phone from the charger and hurls it across his kitchen. It hits a wall and there’s unmistakable sound of a crack. But Sebastian doesn’t care.  
  
Fuck Mark. Fuck Fernando. Fuck them both.  
  
Grabbing his knife he turns back to his lunch but he has lost all his appetite. Standing there he grips the bench tightly trying to breathe and trying so hard to un-burn 38 pictures from his memory. He hates them. He hates them both.  
  
It’s much later at night when Sebastian is curled up in bed alone that he reaches for his phone from next to his bed. His fingers stroke the cracked screen before he shakily enters his messages. He doesn’t really want to look at them again. He’s still furious, still fuming but he still taps his way back to the first picture.  
  
He stares at it, soaks up every detail before he flicks to the second. Each one he studies, eyes lingering on the screen, wishing there wasn’t a crack in the screen in case he was missing something, in case he missed some crucial detail. He still hates them, despises each image but he’s unable to stop himself, he needs to know, needs to know what Mark is doing with Fernando. And while he’s angry it isn’t anger that was burning slowly through his body, it isn’t hatred that swirls low in his gut as he stares at the photo of two of Fernando’s fingers shoved into Mark’s mouth.  
  
Turning onto his stomach, Sebastian presses his now hard cock into the sheets below him, biting his lip as he stares at Mark’s hand shoved into the front of Fernando’s shorts. He wonders what Mark’s hand would feel like, what his fingers would feel like touching him, wrapping around his cock… rubbing and stroking him. His hips begin to shift on their own accord and he lets out a stuttered moan at the sensation as he flicks to the next photo.  
  
Sebastian’s whimpers echoes around him as he thrusts his hips down hard at the photo of Mark’s tongue licking across Fernando’s belly button. He wants to feel Mark’s tongue, wants to feel it on his cock so badly. Closing his eyes Sebastian concentrates for a moment on the building pressure in his balls, the pleasure he was creating. And when that isn’t enough, he opens his eyes and moves to hurriedly to the next photo.  
  
It’s a picture of a bite mark, perfect and round imprinted onto a shoulder. Mark’s shoulder. Sebastian snarls at it because it would be Fernando’s teeth that left it there, Fernando who had marked him. But Mark isn’t Fernando’s. Mark is Sebastian’s to own, to mark, to have, to do with as he wants.  Frustrated, Sebastian throws himself onto his back, right hand thrusting into his underpants to tug at his cock, while he brings up the next photo.  
  
And the next. And the next. Till he’s arching up and gasping aloud, his release finally taking a hold of him as he tightens his grip on his cock. Staring at the final picture as his eyes refocus, Sebastian lets his breathing calm down.  Pulling his hand from his pants he wipes it clean roughly on the sheets, still not tearing his gaze from the last picture.  
  
He isn’t obsessed. But he’s going to end this. Going to ensure that Fernando didn’t have Mark, that no one had Mark but him. It isn’t an obsession, it’s just how things are meant to be. He deletes the last picture, out of all of them, that’s the one that he hates the most.  
  
 _Mark asleep on Fernando’s chest_.  
  
*  
  
  
“Stop loitering around Sebastian,” Christian calls out to him from his office. “You’ll make Andrea dizzy with all your pacing.”  
  
Sebastian freezes and casts a glance at Christian’s PA sitting at her desk. “Sorry,” he mumbles before popping his head inside Christian’s office. “You’re going to yell at me when I tell you what I want, so I’m trying to phrase it in a better way.”  
  
“As long as your suggestion isn’t in relation to Mark I think you’ll be fine,” Christian smiles at him reassuringly.  
  
“Oh,” Sebastian reaches to close the door. “Well it is about Mark…”  
  
“Seb, we’ve discussed this, I’ve discussed this with Mark, I don’t want to be involved in your arguments and I don’t want to be putting out fires amongst the team anymore…”  
  
“We’re not fighting,” Sebastian says walking over to sit down in front Christian before reaching out to snatch up the model car on his desk. It’s his car, the one he won his first championship in. “I wanted to talk about Mark and _my_ championship.”  
  
He can see that Christian is being cautious, he isn’t about to indulge his every whim. Why anyone thought he was spoilt was beyond him. Between Christian and Heikki no one gives him anything he wants. “Last year Mark blatantly tried to ruin my chance in Brazil to win.”  
  
“Seb, we’ve discussed this…”  
  
“I’m not kicking up a stink about the past,” Sebastian cuts him off, though if Christian gave him a chance to kick up a stink, he would. “I want to talk about this year and limiting Mark’s chances to do it again.”  
  
“I think Mark will be fine and as you both like to tell me time and time again, you don’t want each other’s help…”  
  
Actually he’d like Mark’s help but since Mark refused to admit to wanting his help he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to offer his. If Mark could do without help well he so could he. “I want you to make sure Mark isn’t going to ruin my championship for Fernando’s. He likes Fernando more than me, and you need to stop that. Now.”  
  
Christian blinks at him. “Sorry?”  
  
“They’re too close! I don’t like it. He didn’t even want me to win last year. He’s even said, _multiple_ times that he would rather Fernando win than me!” Sebastian’s grip on the car tightens and he feels something give in his hand. He quickly places it back on Christian’s desk and hopes it wasn’t something obvious. It looks fine.  
  
“I am aware that Mark and Fernando are friends, but I have no doubt that Mark puts the team in front of any rival driver. Come on Seb be reasonable here.”  
  
“Why am I always the one being _unreasonable_! Mark was the one that tried to shove me off track for his boyfriend last year! I demand you ban him from seeing Fernando!” Sebastian snaps loudly, furious that Christian wasn’t seeing this properly. Maybe if he pulled out his phone and showed him all the pictures that his _precious_ Mark had texted him, he wouldn’t jump to defend his favourite driver.  
  
“Boyfriend?” Christian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sebastian I think you need to calm down. Have you and Mark really had another falling out? You two were meant to be staying out of each other’s way…”  
  
“I am! I’m not the one sending a thousand texts taunting the other! If you want me to win this year, you’ll ban Mark from being friends with Fernando!” Sebastian shoves the chair back from behind him, intent on storming out and slamming the door. He was going to make his point.  
  
“Sebastian,” Christian calmly folded his hands in front of him. “We’ve had this discussion before as well, let’s not forget who’s in charge of the team and who calls the shots. I have full faith in Mark, and you need to stop underestimating his loyalty to Red Bull.”  
  
Sebastian sneers at him. “If he’s so fucking loyal to the team why is he leaving then?”  
  
Christian mutters something under his breath that sounds something along the lines of, “Maybe so he doesn’t have deal with your fucking tantrums.” But Christian takes a deep breath seemingly to compose himself, “Go and do your simulator work with Rocky Sebastian. You leave Mark and his _loyalty_ for me to handle. Understood?”  
  
Seething, all Sebastian can offer in response is, “Fine.” Turning he walks towards the door.  
  
“Oh and Sebastian?”  
  
He spins around to meet the steely gaze of his boss, “Stay away from Mark because I promise if either one of you causes issues for the remainder of the season, well there will be only one Red Bull employee for me to come down on. Do you understand?”  
  
Sebastian couldn’t believe this. This was fucking bullshit. “Fine,” he repeats. He storms out, slamming the door so hard behind him it bounces back open, but he doesn’t care, nor does he offer Andrea a smile. Flirting with the staff so far from his mind right now. Mark is _always_ trying to ruin his life, even if he isn’t around to do it.  
  
*  
  
  
It’s not till the next race that he sees Mark. He’d barely stepped inside the motorhome on the Thursday when Mark appears from nowhere. It was the first time he’d really seen Mark since before the whole stairwell, blowjob incident, and realising that fact has Sebastian become self-conscious, cheeks flushing. But his embarrassment dies the moment Mark grabs him and slams against the door small wall that separated their individual rooms.  
  
“Do you have _any_ idea what I will do to you if _one_ word gets out? Do you?” Mark voice was shaking, eyes dark and dangerous.  
  
Sebastian tries to squirm backwards, the wall proving his attempt futile. “I haven’t said anything…” Mark’s arm suddenly presses across his throat, pushing down just enough that Sebastian is aware that at any moment his air supply could be cut off.  
  
“You run and tattle to Daddy, just like you do when you don’t get things your way,” Mark mocks him. “But this has _nothing_ to do with the team and _nothing_ to do with racing. No matter how your messed up head has construed things, this has _nothing_ to do with my job. Do you understand?”  
  
When Sebastian doesn’t answer, Mark’s arm presses down hard and Sebastian nods his head, fingers attempt to pull Mark’s arm from his throat.  
  
It falls from away moments later, Mark’s fingers instead grabbing at his hair, pulling his head back and to the side, not caring that he practically jarred his neck to the position he wanted. Sebastian swallows his whimper of pain though, he isn’t going to show an ounce of weakness to Mark. Never. Not one. He gasps though when Mark’s lips brush his ear so very gently.  
  
“I know you Seb, I know you deepest dark secret,” Mark’s chuckle sounds harsh and mocking, and Sebastian tries to demand his body to move, to fight back, kick, punch, do _something_ other than stand pinned to a wall and trembling because Mark is pressed against him.  
  
“You know _nothing_ ,” Sebastian manages to get out, fingers curling around Mark’s hand, not pulling it away but more to just have something to hold onto. He cries out when Mark’s mouth presses into his neck, open and wet before he sucks harshly at the skin. He’s most certainly marking him, his mouth relentless till Sebastian can’t help but cry out and try and squirm away, and it’s only then that Mark sinks his teeth in, biting him hard. “Argh!” His cry sounds more breathless and needy than one of pain.  
  
Mark rips away from him then, eyes glued to the mark on his neck that he had left. He appeared to be satisfied with his efforts. Sebastian reaches up to touch at it, “You bit me,” he whispers, eyes wide and slightly short of breath. He gasps when Mark rushes back at him, body once more pinned to the wall and his smile feral.  
Sebastian clutches at his shoulders and once more doing nothing to push him away. “You want another one?” Mark asks, pushing his thumb into the other side of his neck. “Maybe somewhere else, somewhere far less visible…” In response Sebastian pushes back against Mark, and Mark is once more chuckling. “Later, and if you’re _good_.”  
  
And then Mark was gone, walking away like he hadn’t just reduced him to pile of a want. Slumping against the wall, he takes a moment to get his breathing back under control before he focuses his vision, reality dosing him coldly. Heikki is standing there, arms crossed and looking far more upset than Sebastian had ever seen him.  
  
“Heikki,” he breathes out, forcing his legs to straighten up. “I uh…”  
  
Heikki just shakes his head clearly not wanting to hear it. “You promised me Sebastian.”  
  
“It’s not like that…”  
  
“He’s going to break you Seb,” Heikki repeats the same thing he told him last time. “Why can’t you see that? You said you’d stay away from him. You _promised_ me.”  
  
“I am,” Sebastian whispers. “It’s not what you think. I can explain.”  
  
“Save it. And find something to cover your neck.” He stares at him in disgust.  
  
Sebastian crumples back against the wall as Heikki spins on his heel and walks off. It’s the first time that Heikki had ever looked truly disappointed in him. He doesn’t understand why Heikki couldn’t trust him? Why does Heikki have so little faith in him? Why doesn’t he realise that he’s better than Mark, he’s three times better. Soon to be _four_ times better.  
  
Closing his eyes Sebastian stands there, fingers stroking the bruise Mark had left on his neck, the memory of his mouth far too vivid. And he chews his lip furiously, does wanting more make him obsessed? It wouldn’t make Heikki right, and he can control this. He knows what he’s doing. He isn’t a child, no matter what Mark believed. And determined to prove that he could do this he heads into his room and changes his shirt. He catches his gaze in the mirror and he steels himself before repeating, “Faster. Stronger. Better.”


	2. Chapter 2

Standing outside of Mark’s hotel room Sebastian attempts to steady his breathing. He wasn’t sure what to expect, what game Mark was playing at, all he was certain of was that he hadn’t been able to stay in his room for more than fifteen minutes when reaching the hotel. He wasn’t chicken shit and he damn well _needed_ to know what was going on. If he could just see, even if it would be the second time, this Mark and Fernando thing he could cement it all in his head…  
  
He hastily corrects himself. So he could _forget_ _it_ , so he could _move on_ and never have to picture Mark and Fernando together.  
  
Right when Sebastian was sure he was going to turn back around and head to his own room, call Heikki and demand his post-race massage, he was watching his own hand knocking on Mark’s door. It was pure panic then, he wanted to flee, but his feet wouldn’t budge, he was rooted to the floor and completely unprepared for the Spaniard that threw open the door in front of him.  
  
Sebastian choked on a mouthful of air at the sight of Fernando and it immediately sees Fernando smirk. “Sebastian,” he greets calmly, a hand moving to attempt to rid what suspiciously looked like bed hair.  
  
“Hi.” He refused to believe his voice squeaked. The door widens and the sight of Mark has Sebastian square his shoulders, he wasn’t going to show an ounce of weakness. “I’m not chicken shit,” he states bluntly glaring at Mark.  
  
“We’ll see,” Mark shrugs before stepping closer to Fernando, an arm lazily moving to slide around his waist before he places a soft kiss beside his ear.  
  
Sebastian glares at Fernando’s ear that Mark then brushed his lips against, it looked almost _loving_. It was ridiculous. Mark loving Fernando.  They were just fucking. He pushes passed Mark, ensuring to bump him off balance as he invites himself into the suite that was identical to his, albeit far more untidier.  
  
“You’re a slob,” Sebastian states nose wrinkling at clothes strewn around.  
  
“Well I don’t employ someone to pick after me.”  
  
Mark’s retort has Sebastian’s stomach do a slow sickening flick as Heikki’s disappointed eyes flash to mind. He turns to look back at Mark and Fernando, Mark with his arms crossed and standing defensively, Fernando on the other hand seemed far more relaxed, smile still in place. Fernando made Sebastian shift his weight from one foot to the other wanting whatever was going to happen to be over and done with. Now.  
  
“Sit.” Fernando points to an armchair shoved in the corner, angled towards the bed. It was striped, gold and pale blue, he supposes it’s just like the one in his suite, just a different colour, as Sebastian stares at it that sick feeling in his stomach intensifies. He didn’t want to be here all of a sudden.  
  
Clicking fingers has Sebastian blink.  
  
“Sit Sebastian. Now.” Fernando’s impatience comes out in a huff.  
  
“Or leave.”  
  
It’s those blunt words, from Mark that has Sebastian stalk across the room and sit in the damned striped chair. He glares at both of them.  
  
“Phone?” Fernando is in front of him, hand out. When Sebastian raises his eyebrows he adds, “No pictures or videos.”  
  
“I have thirty seven pictures on my fucking phone!” How would these pictures be any different? And he was a tad hurt at the thought that Mark didn’t trust him. Not Fernando, Fernando could fall into a hole and never reappear and that would be fine. But he still fumbles his phone from his pocket and shoves it at the amused Spaniard.  
  
“And which picture did you delete then?” Mark asks curiously.  
  
“I was deleting all of them, but was distracted,” he lies, happy he suddenly had a lock on his phone when Fernando jabs at the screen for a moment before carelessly dumping the phone on the tiny table near the door.  
  
There’s a look shared between Fernando and Mark then, one that Sebastian can’t quite read, though he tries, because there was something about it that had him sit up straighter; he swore he saw doubt. Mark was striding over then, arms falling to the armrests of his chair as he lowers himself down to stare at him levelly.  
  
“Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t even breathe,” Mark’s words were quiet, but it was the authority behind them that has Sebastian’s tongue dart out to wet his lips as he squirms in his chair under the hard look. It had been a long time since Mark had been able to wield power over him. When it came to racing, Sebastian had done everything to ensure he stamped all over Mark, the tracks, the sessions, even the team – there was nothing left that Mark could use against him… till now. He doesn’t like it, not one bit.  
  
“Do you understand Sebastian?” Mark’s voice bites around his name.  
  
Sebastian raises his eyebrows in response because he was told not to speak.  
  
Mark moves closer, lips almost touching his ear as he murmurs, “Good boy.”  
  
Sebastian’s eyes flutter momentarily closed at those words, flushing because he rarely had Mark’s approval. They snap open when there are fingers pulling at the buttons on his shirt. Mark undoing each with swift efficiency, the collared shirt he’d been forced to wear pushed open and roughly off his left shoulder and the thought that Mark wanted him naked vanishes the instant his thumb presses into the bruise on his neck.  
  
“Si, nice,” Fernando’s voice has Sebastian tear his eyes to the figure moving to stand beside Mark. For a moment he’d forgotten that they weren’t alone.  
  
Mark’s thumb brushes over the healing mark, using every ounce of willpower to not lean into the touch while Mark shares their earlier moment this weekend with _Fernando._ He scowls and shoves Mark’s hands from him.  
  
“I promised you another…” Mark stares at him amused. “You seemed eager at the time…”  
  
“Fuck you.” The moment Sebastian stands up Mark shoves him back into the chair.  
  
“I said shut up and don’t move.” Mark doesn’t yell, but the hardness is back and the enormity of Mark’s dislike for him hits him like a wave.  
  
Sebastian shrinks back into his chair, Heikki’s words louder than ever in his head. _This is a game_. The thought disappears in a haze when Mark drops to his knees in front of him, a thousand images bombarding him of Mark on his knees in that stairwell. His breathing quickens when Mark reaches for the fastening of his shorts, hips lifting without any thought, as his cock begins to harden having spent far too many nights wondering exactly how good Mark was at giving head.  
  
“Ugh.” It’s the only noise he makes when Mark’s bites at his stomach, teeth sharp as against sensitive skin, shorts and underwear pushed down his hips but not completely off. Mark’s stubble is harsh when it drags across his belly making him tremble and Sebastian wants nothing more than to thrust his nearly hard cock towards Mark’s mouth that was moving towards his hip and not down to where he wants it.  
  
Sebastian lifts a hand, intending to grab Mark’s hair but his hand falls quickly back to the armrest because there were already fingers twisted in Mark’s hair. _Fernando’s_. Sebastian stares at them, each finger curled in the dark locks, glaring furiously for a moment anger completely wiping out the heat of Mark’s mouth brushing across his skin.  
  
“Ask me,” Fernando orders, eyes so bright. “Ask me for his mouth.”  
  
“No,” Sebastian hisses but sucks in his breath immediately when there’s a teasing tip of a tongue circling his belly button.  
  
Fernando’s mouth grew into a slow smile. “Ask. His mouth is very good… I will say yes. Just ask me Sebastian.”  
  
Sebastian was sure this was torture, desperate for more but unwilling to give Fernando _anything,_ and if he asked, it was tantamount to begging right now. And Sebastian Vettel didn’t beg. Not from Fernando Alonso. “No.” His response is far shakier now and it immediately sees a hand brush his cock in his pants and he jerks in the chair, Mark’s tongue following the line of hair downwards to the edge of his briefs.  
  
“Fuck,” he rasps, head falling back to stare at the ceiling, at something other than the victorious glint that was about to cover Fernando’s face as he gave in. “Okay. Fuck, okay. I want his mouth.” He wants to die, he hates himself but Mark was grabbing him behind his knees, pulling him half off the chair, shoving his legs apart almost immediately.  
  
“I want his mouth _Fernando_.” Mark’s fingers had curled under the edge of his pants, ready to strip him but he had paused as Fernando reminded him he hadn’t fulfilled the request. Fernando’s fingers yank Mark’s mouth from him at the silence that follows. “Then you get nothing.”  
  
“Don’t,” Sebastian says the moment Mark moves to rise to his feet. If he could, he’d keep Mark in that position forever. At his feet. Kneeling. Sucking his cock. “I want his mouth. _Fernando_.” He doesn’t hide this time when he _asks_ , he stares levelly at Fernando, he’ll _ask_. He wasn’t going to beg, this wasn’t begging.  
  
Immediately Fernando’s hand is gone from Mark’s hair, hand waving in a gesture that said ‘help yourself’. In the next moment Mark’s mouth is pressing roughly into a spot near his hip, pants pulled further down as his hands fly to Mark’s hair trying to take more. Mark though, sucks at the spot, hard, teeth sinking in, his tongue lashing furiously making him squirm as he hangs off the chair. No matter how hard he tries to push Mark’s head towards his cock he doesn’t budge, mouth latched to the one spot until the pleasure of wet heat becomes painful.  
  
And then Mark’s mouth is gone, Mark’s hands gone and he tears himself from Sebastian’s grip as he stands up. “And how many people will you have to explain that one too?” Mark looked impressed at with his handiwork and Sebastian felt wrecked and aching, and not just his cock.  
  
“You should say thank you,” Fernando presses into Mark’s side, all the space between them disappearing and it’s enough for Sebastian to scramble himself back together somewhat.  
  
“Fuck you.” There was no one that he hated more than Fernando Alonso.  
  
“Children rarely have manners,” Fernando shrugs it off as Sebastian slides himself back upright. “You can go if you want.”  
  
There was an unsaid invitation there that he could stay. But there was no way Sebastian was going to subject himself willing to more of them. But by the time he has fixed up his pants, when he looks up Sebastian freezes at the sight. Mark and Fernando wrapped around each in a way he hadn’t seen before.  
  
Mark’s arm wrapped tightly around Fernando’s head, protective and hiding their faces that were close, not touching. Fernando’s arm were around his waist, hands holding fistfuls of his t-shirt. There was something intense about the moment, and their voices were low, quiet, _soft._ He hears, rather than sees the kiss, neither one of them even considering his presence in the room.  
  
The Spanish that he hears he doesn’t understand, and Mark just grunts in response. Sebastian didn’t think Mark could speak any other language... but in the next moment Mark’s arm had dropped down, both of them were staring at him.  
  
“No,” Mark says, voice clear and his answer directed completely at the Spaniard.  
  
“Si,” Fernando murmurs hands rubbing at Mark’s chest. “Si, si…”  
  
But the ‘no’ has hope bloom rapidly in Sebastian. Mark said ‘no’. Mark didn’t want something that Fernando did, Mark and Fernando weren’t on the same page. And if he was the wedge… something lit up inside of him for the first time since stepping inside this room.  
  
“Fernando…” Mark’s voice snaps in the same manner that Sebastian was familiar with, but he was letting Fernando push him towards the bed.  
  
“Te amo,” Fernando was murmuring as he guides Mark to sit on the edge of the bed. “Te amo Mark.”  
  
And just as quickly as the hope had come it was shattered with those words. He didn’t need to know Spanish to know what he was saying, and Mark crumples in a way Sebastian hadn’t seen before, like those words were some magical key for his co-operation, falling onto his back, apparently willing to whatever Fernando had asked.  
  
Sebastian feels like a haze dropped around him, vaguely aware that Fernando had stripped Mark of his shorts and was kneeling between his legs, mouth bringing Mark to full hardness. But none of it was as sharp as the echoing ‘Te amo’ in his head. Mark and Fernando. They weren’t just fucking. None of this was fucking.  
  
He swears time slows down, and speeds up all at the same time.  
  
Sebastian blinks.  
  
And Fernando is naked on all fours above Mark, Marks fingers brushing his cheek so gently.  
  
Sebastian blinks.  
  
And Mark and Fernando were so wrapped around each other, he wasn’t sure whose limbs belonged to who, both kissing unhurriedly.  
  
Sebastian blinks.  
  
Mark’s fingers were inside Fernando, nuzzling his thigh and murmuring to him words that Sebastian wasn’t able to comprehend while Fernando babbled nonsense in Spanish.  
  
Sebastian blinks.  
  
Fernando’s legs are wrapped around Mark’s hips, his fingers raking down Mark’s back as they moved slowly, gasping into each other’s kisses.  
  
Sebastian blinks.  
  
Mark’s pinned Fernando’s hands above his head, fingers entwined tightly as everything intensifies, faces pressed together, in a moment where no one else existed, not even him.  
  
Sebastian blinks.  
  
Mark was on Fernando, still, gasping for breath, before pressing kisses along his shoulder.  
  
Sebastian blinks and gets to his feet. He snatches up his phone and walks out, slamming the door behind him. In the hall he doesn’t bother to do up his shirt, he walks numbly to his room.  
  
Kimi was wrong. They weren’t fucking. That was so much more than fucking.  
  
He feels sick. And he climbs into bed the moment he’s in his room.  
  
Sebastian blinks and refuses to open his eyes.

* * *

“Don’t be mad at me,” Sebastian demands the moment Heikki answered his door the next morning.  
  
Heikki’s jaw clenches in response.  
  
“I had a bad night, so don’t be mad at me.” He wasn’t going to think about last night at all, ever again. If Heikki was right and he had an obsession, it was over. It died last night.  
  
He’s subjected to a long cold stare from Heikki, his trainer clearly weighing up whether he was going to drop this. And the thought that Heikki was going to drag this out, keep hating him has a lump form in Sebastian’s throat. He really can’t take that right now. Not now.  
  
“Please don’t make me beg,” he whispers, last night prickles at his memories, he won’t pick it at though, but he can feel the tears burning in the corners of his eyes. “Please Heikki, please don’t make me beg.”  
  
“Beg?” Heikki looked surprise before his hand slides into his hair and pulls Sebastian against him. “When have I ever made you beg?”  
  
Never. Heikki never made him beg. Sebastian wraps his arms around him and holds him tightly, face pushed into his shirt determined to never let him go. Heikki didn’t make him beg. Heikki didn’t want to break him. Heikki didn’t love someone else.  
  
Heikki moves them into the room, and it’s only then that Heikki wraps him tightly in his grip and he immediately feels better. He didn’t want to ever leave, and he clutches at him harder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You were right. I’m sorry.”  
  
“What happened last night?” Heikki murmurs, his hand rubbing the length of his back. “Do you want to talk?”  
  
“Nothing happened. Nothing.” He pushes his face against Heikki’s chest determined to not remember.  
  
“Did Mark hurt you?” The way Heikki asked the question, Sebastian was sure that Heikki would punch Mark if that was the case. But he shakes his head, because Mark didn’t touch him. He winces then, because Mark had touched him…  
  
“I want to go home. Take me home Heikki,” Sebastian orders. “I hate this place. I hate it.”  
  
  
He only had a few days at home before he needed to head out for sponsors events. But Sebastian was determined to enjoy every moment, being home felt like he was safe. No one to hound him, no press, no team, no pressure, no pretending to be someone for cameras. There was no Mark. No _them_. And when he steps inside he stops inside the front door and closes his eyes, and just _breathes_.  
  
The warmth of a hand covers the back of his neck. Heikki. Sebastian leans into the touch, he wants more, and like always Heikki knows, arms locking around him tightly, just holding him. Maybe he could order Heikki to stay with him for these couple of days. And not just to train. Stay as in be with him every moment just so he would feel somewhat whole again, and not quite so… lost?  
  
“Heikki?” Sebastian whispers, eyes still closed, still refusing to return completely to reality. He shivers when a hand pushes into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp, warmth radiates down his back from the touch.  
  
“Yes Sebastian?” Heikki’s voice sounds rough, tense, not the soothing tone he was used to. Sebastian’s eyes flutter open to see that Heikki was staring at him intensely, eyes burning into his gaze, and Sebastian wants to squirm away, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.  
  
Turning his head he pushes his cheek into Heikki’s shoulder not ready to deal with that right now, unable to comprehend what this might mean. “Heikki?” he repeats, pushing himself closer, forcing away all the space between them because he wanted someone right now. “Stay tonight.”  
  
Heikki’s hand had been worming their way under his shirt, fingers pushing into the sore spots on his lower back from sitting on a plane, and they immediately halt their dance.  
  
“You can stay, make me dinner, we can watch a movie and you can give me a massage…” Sebastian tires to wriggle closer. “I need you.” And Sebastian smiles when he hears Heikki’s sigh, face burying in his hair before sighing, “Okay.”  
  
 _I need you_. The magical key to get Heikki to do what he wanted, to have Heikki offer himself up, no resistance. His magical key, the same key Fernando possessed with Mark with _te amo_. Gripping Heikki’s arms tightly all he could think about was stealing that damn key from the fucking Spaniard. He would give anything for that key and then he would use it to break them. And then he would break Mark.  
  
  
Sebastian had been enjoying his massage, enjoying Heikki’s hand pushing into his muscles, the tension easing away. It was far gentler than his usual massages and it made him sigh happily. Heikki didn’t usually treat him so nicely. Sebastian liked this. He liked it a lot. He was going to make Heikki do this for him every night.  
  
“Roll over.”  
  
Heikki’s voice breaks through his sleepy mind, and Sebastian struggles to get his body to cooperate, everything felt so relaxed and loose. He doesn’t open his eyes, just waits for Heikki to continue, but there’s no movement, no hands touching him. “Heikki?” Sebastian’s eyes flutter open and he stares at the Finn behind half lidded eyes. “Don’t stop…”  
  
Heikki’s hand falls to his stomach before his fingers trail towards his hip. Sebastian feels every muscle tense back up, breath sucking in sharply when Heikki’s thumb presses down into bruised flesh. That mark that had been left by his teammate, a mark he had begged for. The pressure increases, to the point of pain as Heikki’s thumb digs in and with it comes all those memories Sebastian was trying to repress.  
  
“Don’t!” The thumb is gone, Heikki’s hand gone and Sebastian yanks back up his towel that had slipped to reveal the bruise.  
  
“You slept with him.” Heikki’s voice is like ice, full of betrayal and accusation.  
  
“No!” Sebastian sits up, eyes wide and desperate to assure Heikki that’s not what happened. “No! It wasn’t like that! It’s not what you think. I promise.”  
  
Heikki doesn’t believe him, his eyes tell him that he doesn’t believe him. “But it was Mark,” Heikki spits out the name before turning to pack up.  
  
Sebastian can feel the panic in him. “I didn’t sleep with him,” he repeats. “He’s playing me Heikki. I know that. But I can beat him. I can. He did it on purpose.” Sebastian suddenly remembers Mark’s comment, asking how many people would see that mark and he flushes with rage. But Heikki wasn’t listening or didn’t care. The thought that Heikki didn’t care makes Sebastian sick. “Heikki stop!”  
  
Heikki whirls around to face him, glare full of fury. “No Sebastian. _You_ stop!”  
  
Stop obsessing, that’s what Heikki calls it. Stop. He promised he would, promised Heikki, promised himself. He swore after watching _them_ together he didn’t need to see more, and didn’t want to see more of them, he just wanted them to stop. If he could make them stop, it would be done. It would be over. Sebastian stares at Heikki with pleading eyes, willing him to understand. “I can’t…” The words sound like defeat, to himself more than anything. “But I will, soon. _I promise_.”  
  
“You are in love with him.” Heikki’s anger fades back into his stoic self, looking tired if anything.  
  
Sebastian stares at his trainer stunned. “Love him? I’m _in love_ with Mark?” The words were so foreign, loving Mark was not something he envisioned. He didn’t want to sit with Mark and whisper sweet nothing in his ear, he didn’t want to console Mark after bad races, tell him everything would be okay. He didn’t want any of that. “This is _not_ about love,” he can hear his voice shake and it’s not from anger. "This is so far from love Heikki. You don’t understand anything.”  
  
“No Sebastian,” Heikki hisses back, “You refuse to understand where your emotions are going to get you sucked into. Your obsession with Mark did not start a few weeks ago. You’ve been in love with him far longer than that.”  
  
“I am not in love with him!” Sebastian screams at Heikki, screams so loud his throat hurts afterwards. Heikki looked taken aback with his response but Sebastian didn’t care. “I am not in love with him! This is not love! It’s different! It’s more! He was mine Heikki! I made him mine. I _broke_ him and I _won_ him. So he’s mine and that doesn’t get to change because of _him_. Fernando can’t have him because I didn’t let him have him! He can’t love him until I’m done with him. Mark is mine, _just like you’re mine_.” Sebastian’s whole body trembles, Heikki’s expression of surprise quickly morphing back into his earlier fury.  
  
Heikki strides over to him, hair being yanked backwards by Heikki’s fist. “You _selfish_ little boy,” Heikki hisses at him. “You do not own anyone, and you certainly don’t own me. You’ll never _own_ me.”  
  
Sebastian would shake his head if Heikki’s grip allowed. Instead, with as much surety as he could muster he responds with, “Yes I do.” And despite the tight grip, Sebastian turns his face to kiss the first spot of skin his lips touch on Heikki’s arm, tongue darting out for the briefest little lick. He can feel the muscles tense in Heikki’s forearm, and there’s a stab of triumph at how fast Heikki rips away from him, eyes wide, his certainty not quite certain now. “Mine,” Sebastian repeats quietly.  
  
All he gets though is Heikki’s back, watching his trainer walk out of the room. Sebastian though tells himself it changed nothing. He lies back down and stares at the ceiling, his fingers absently playing with the mark on his hip. He was going to make Mark pay for this, pay for everything.

* * *

  
Sebastian walks through the paddock, a new determination in his step. With the season winding down, he was going to ensure that every race from here on out was his, he was going to leave Mark and Fernando the scraps. No one was having anything, they were all his. Heikki was right about one thing, he was selfish and he didn’t care. Mark would get nothing this year, last season or not. And he would give Fernando even less.  
  
Heikki was silent next to him, but he was getting used to Heikki giving him the silent treatment over the last week. Heikki being mad at him changed nothing, in fact Heikki showing up and doing his job proved exactly how right Sebastian was, and maybe that was why Heikki sometimes looked ready to throttle him when Sebastian smirked at him on occasion. If Heikki was so desperate to prove him wrong, he’d have quit, walked out, but he hasn’t, won’t, he can’t, and it had nothing to do with contracts.  
  
Sebastian turns up the music on his phone as he walks, fine with the fact that Heikki was walking ahead of him, distant changed nothing. He watches Heikki, stares at his figure cutting a path through the groups of people, unknowingly clearing a path for him. Heikki wasn’t mad at him, Heikki was pissed at the truth.  
  
Sebastian’s stride falters when he sees Mark up ahead, walking with his own physio. For a moment he’s surprised that it wasn’t fucking Fernando. Those two appeared to be attached to each other. Despite it not being necessary, Heikki barges between them, deliberately crashing into Mark and upsetting his balance. Sebastian grins at his teammate when he reaches him, Mark’s eyebrows rising up at him in question. His smile though falters when Mark mouths a kiss to him and in response Sebastian hurries to close the gap to Heikki.  
  
  
When Sebastian watches his teammate in the garage it’s like nothing had changed. It was like Mark hadn’t tortured him after the last race, it was like Mark hadn’t made him watch he and Fernando in bed. Mark was his usual cool and collected self, at least for the moment.  
  
Sebastian wanted to scrub it away, setting faster times in practice changes nothing. Getting pole changes nothing. Winning changes nothing.  
Sebastian’s fingers curl and uncurl every time Mark brushes past him without even a glance at him during post-race wrap ups. Mark was giving him nothing.  
  
But there’s Fernando. Fernando who shoots him sly smiles, smug looks. Fernando who wanted to rub his face in something he knew he wanted but couldn’t have. Fernando who he wanted to punch in the fucking face.  
  
At least he won the fucking race. He was better. Faster. Stronger.  
  
Fernando moves passed Mark, arms brushing.  
  
 _Te amo_.  
  
The words ring in his head when Mark smiles at Fernando in response, warm and so different from any that he gave to anyone else.  
  
 _Te amo._  
  
Sebastian wraps up the last of his press interviews, walks off, needing space, needing to get out. He packs up his things in his driver room, trying not to care that Heikki hadn’t done it. He shoves it all in his backpack without any attention.  
  
The door opening and closing behind has him spin around to tell Heikki he needed to snap out of his drama queen behaviour only for his frustration to dry up immediately at the presence of his teammate casually leaning against the door.  
  
“We need to talk.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Sebastian snaps zipping up his bag. He was going to walk out of here and find Heikki.  
  
“I had a conversation with your trainer this weekend.” Mark’s gaze burns into Sebastian’s back. “Conversation is putting it nicely for the record.”  
  
Sebastian feels his heart momentarily stop. He couldn’t recall Heikki not being by his side this weekend. The only time was when he was with his engineers, Heikki got bored if he took too long. Maybe Friday? Heikki hadn’t said anything though and Mark was coming to him now? He turns around slowly, trying to show indifference to the comment.  
  
“If one word gets out…”  
  
“Heikki won’t say anything,” Sebastian snaps. No matter how much Heikki despised what was going on, his trainer knew what discretion was, and he had no inclination to discuss this with anyone.  
  
“I will ensure your name gets plastered across the papers above mine,” Mark threatens. “Just so you know where things stand.”  
  
“Got it. Was that all?” He really wasn’t in the mood for this right now. “Don’t want you to be late for a date with Fernando,” he adds sarcastically.  
  
Mark’s mouth now curls in a smile. “He’ll wait.” Mark pushes himself off the door, walking towards him slowly, and Sebastian’s grip tightens on his backpack.  
  
“Get. Out.”  
  
“No,” Mark stops in front of him, fingers reaching for his backpack, one small tug having Sebastian surrendering his hold on it. It’s tossed back onto the small desk. “You know, I can’t quite work out something Sebastian.”  
  
“If it’s the door, let me point it out,” Sebastian’s sarcasm does nothing to dissuade Mark from taking a step towards him, and Sebastian fights the instinct to step back.  
  
“Just how you managed to wrap Heikki around your little finger. He’s so fucking whipped it’s pathetic. Not even Christian worships the ground you work on as much as he does. All his threats about what he’ll do to me if I dare lay a finger on you…” With that Mark drags a finger along his shoulder. “He never struck me as the jealous type…”  
  
Sebastian stiffens when Mark’s fingertip reaches the collar of his shirt, jumping from material to flesh, and his skin burns under that tiny spot where Mark’s finger stops.  
  
“But I guess he didn’t like the little gift I gave you last week. And I suppose you left out just how much you begged for it.”  
  
Sebastian reaches up then and smacks away Mark’s hand, fist punching into his forearm, because he didn’t get to do this. Mark reacts faster than Sebastian expected, rushing at him, body pushing into his until they stumbled and fell against the edge of the small cupboard, he grunts from the impact. He shoves Mark back, all his strength put into one push, but it sees him stumble after Mark who had gripped at his shirt, dragging him along, using the momentum to spin him so Sebastian crashed into the wall opposite, Mark pressing into him fully.  
  
“Stop it!” Sebastian attempts to push him away sees his hands grabbed and slammed back besides his head, the grip on his wrists tight enough to bruise.  
  
“Is this what you want?” Mark asks, his body rubbing against Sebastian’s sending his anger spiralling sharply into a different kind of heat. Mark doesn’t miss the harsh intake of his breath, his eyes clearly laughing at him as he wore a victorious smile. “Or maybe,” Mark spun them around, changing their position so it was him against the wall, and Sebastian pushes up against him. “You prefer this?” Mark still held his wrists as he lifted his hands above his head, before he released Sebastian's from his grasp, and Sebastian doesn’t hesitate to grab at Mark’s wrists, pin them in place, not caring that Mark gave up the position.  
  
And there was Mark Webber. Pinned to the wall in his driver’s room. Willingly. Sebastian’s head swims with power and want and that feeling he had after every win. He pushes his face into Mark’s neck, breathing him in, breathing _this_ in. God, he could high off this. He feels Mark push against his grip, testing the hold and Sebastian shoves back against him, slams his hands back against the wall because he wasn’t ready to let this go, not yet.  
  
“Is this what you want?” Mark’s voice had lost its edge as he repeats his earlier question and it has Sebastian lift his head back up, meeting the gaze of his teammate currently at his control.  
  
He didn’t see the point in admitting something Mark knew the damn answer to.  
  
“Did you want this from the first moment we met?” Mark asks as Sebastian shifts against him, unable to stop himself seeking some sort of friction, taking some sort of advantage of the situation. “And here everyone thought you were innocent little Sebastian,” Mark chuckles at that. “You were _never_ innocent,” Mark leans forward to whisper the words in his ear.  
  
Sebastian shivers as Mark’s breath brushes across his ear, the sensation of his mouth dragging across his cheek outweighing his words. When Mark pulls his head back, he’s wearing his little smug smile he was sure Fernando taught him.  
  
“Don’t pretend you know me Mark,” Sebastian though can’t muster any great heat behind the words. “You know nothing.” All Mark knew was how to hate him, but he can see Mark formulating a response, and he doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want any more of this conversation. So he leans forward and presses his lips to Mark, the kiss soft, unexpected and not just for Mark, both standing rigid with their lips pressed together.  
  
It’s Mark that reacts, hands ripped from the loosening hold Sebastian had relaxed, shoving him back and looking at him wide eyed.  
  
“You don’t know me,” Sebastian repeats, voice shaking this time, unable to quite compute what he just did, his heart hammering hard in his chest.  
  
“Yes I do you little shit.” Mark grabs at his shirt, yanks him back and Sebastian’s cry of surprise is lost between the slam of their lips. And this time the kiss is everything it should be, harsh and desperate. Mark attacks his mouth like he was trying to rid the memory of the gentle kiss Sebastian gave him, teeth bitting at his lips, tongue demanding entry that Sebastian gives without a fight. He lets Mark take what he wants, let’s Mark push him against any surface he wants, bend his head to whatever angle he desired. Mark kissed him like he couldn’t get enough and it’s only when Mark rips his mouth from his, letting Sebastian gasp for air does Sebastian let the words spill into the room.  
  
“Te amo.”  
  
The words hang in the room around them and despite being breathless, wanting more, there’s a satisfaction at watching the horror pass across Mark’s face. Yeah he hadn’t been thinking about his precious Fernando thirty seconds ago. But his satisfaction lasts mere moments before he finds himself thrown clear across the small room, sprawling across the small bed, head slamming into the Red Bull plastered logo wall. He blinks as he sees stars swarm his vision.  
  
“Say that to me again, and it will be the last thing that comes out your fucking mouth.”  
  
Sebastian slides to lie down on his side after Mark storms out, the door slammed so hard it bounces back open. Sebastian doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that his head was throbbing, that he pissed off Mark, that Heikki would be furious with him, all he cared about was that he finally got _something_ from Mark. That he finally got something on both of _them_. He won more than a race this weekend and it has him smile dazedly.  
  
*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To show that I have not forgotten or abandoned this story (but rather life rudely interrupting), here's a small update. I was going to roll this into one huge post but decided it was an okay part to split and gives me a bit of time to refine the final parts.

Sebastian can barely keep his breathing steady in his excitement, eyes fixed on the two men in the restaurant on the Wednesday prior to the Indian Grand Prix.

_Mark’s hand covers Fernando. Fernando rips his away._

_Mark’s foot nudges Fernando’s beneath the table.Fernando tucks his ankles under his chair._

_Mark leaned across the table. Fernando leaned back._

Each rejection, every little crack has Sebastian lighting up brighter and brighter. The fluke chance to encounter them here, to witness _this_ , it has Sebastian trembling, leg bouncing under the table. He couldn’t stare at anything else, just them. He was willing for them to break. And to think it was because of him, because of one kiss, one kiss where Mark lost his self-control, one glorious moment where he finally punched a crack in his armour. How badly did he want to add another.

_Mark’s face was pleading. Fernando’s was steely indifference._

Sebastian’s head swims with glee, there was no moment more perfect than this, at least not until he secured his fourth title in four days.

Its Kimi's grunt from opposite that reminds Sebastian he was actually attending dinner with a friend tonight. Sebastian can’t help but grin, because despite the disinterested expression that was gracing Kimi’s face, he was just as engrossed as he was in Mark and Fernando’s apparent tiff.

He secretly thinks Kimi stealthily roams the paddock soaking up everyone’s secrets. How he would give anything to ask Kimi how he knew about Mark and Fernando in the first place but he wasn’t going to pry.

“I give it a week,” Kimi shrugs grabbing his drink before digging into his so far untouched dinner, apparently done with his nosing.

Sebastian can’t help but grin happily. “Till they’re over?”

Kimi’s eyes dart up in surprise. “Before they’re back to fucking. So wipe the shit eating grin off your face.”

“You don’t know that…” Kimi as far as he was aware had yet to develop the talent to see the future.

Kimi shovels food in his mouth and shrugs and Sebastian want to reach over and shake him so he would for once just _tell him_ something. Kimi notices because he’s not doing well to hide his smile. “You’re an asshole.”

“No, you’re not seeing the big picture,” Kimi responds simply.

“Then share it,” Sebastian demands and Kimi sighs like it would be so much effort to go to all that trouble.

“You’re meddling, involved,” Kimi clearly doesn’t approve and Sebastian wants to know _how_ he can possibly know that. “Fernando would love to rip you apart, more than Mark. Stay away.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian snaps Kimi’s own phrase back at him and he’s blessed with a rare grin. He’s not offered more, so he picks up his fork and starts eating. There’s silence before Sebastian dares to poke at the subject again. “How did you know they were fucking?” Okay, so he will pry.

“Walls,” Kimi shrugs. “Stupid fucking thin walls.” He grimaces and Sebastian wants to tell him seeing it was worse, having to watch them _love_ each other was worse. And for once, it was him reaching for his drink, wishing it was something stronger like Kimi’s, and if sensing his thoughts, Kimi drags his drink protectively closer. “Webber’s fucking loud when he’s being fucked,” Kimi’s additional comment Sebastian was sure was simply for his benefit and his mouth is immediately dry.

_Mark being fucked._

Heat flushes through his body and he has to mentally bat at all the ways he could fuck Mark, to find out if he was as noisy as Kimi suggested. _Now_ wasn’t the time to dwell on that. And yeah, Kimi was smirking at him.

“Never happen,” Kimi states bluntly but he looks well amused. “Big picture Sebastian,” he repeats. And before Sebastian can go off at him he elaborates. “They were friends. Then you beat them. Then them. And then Fernando leaves his wife.”

Sebastian stares across the table at Kimi. That was ridiculous. “People get divorced all the time.” But still he looks back over at Mark and Fernando, Mark getting to his feet, their dinner over, their plates mostly untouched. If Kimi was implying Fernando left his wife for Mark…

“Sure,” Kimi agrees, his gaze now fixed firmly back on the same place as Sebastian’s. “But I didn’t just say Fernando got divorced.” Sebastian’s grip on his fork is white knuckled, Kimi’s word echoing in his head with their implication. “You are the reason they’re together.”

Sebastian’s gaze sets icily on his friend, but Kimi just raises his eyebrows not bothered with sharing his view – for the first fucking time. Refusing to dwell on that thought in any way he snaps his head back to the ‘happy’ couple.

Mark was leaning down, mouth close to Fernando’s ear, whispering something, body rigid and stiff. Sebastian had no issues reading his teammate, he was pissed. But while Mark storms off without another glance back, no look shot in his and Kimi’s direction, Fernando remains seated, a slow smile spreading across his face as his fingers play with his water glass.

Both he and Kimi avert their attention from the Spaniard who was fixing up the bill. Unlike Mark though, Fernando heads towards their table. “Kimi,” Fernando’s greeting was as warm as if Kimi had delivered it. And when Fernando’s eyes fall on him, Sebastian swears he can see victory in his eyes, they were glinting darkly. “Sebastian,” his name rolls off his tongue smoothly a hand moving to clamp on his shoulder, fingers digging in hard, “Good luck this weekend.”

Sebastian flinches under the bite of his grip. “I won’t need it,” he responds brushing Fernando’s arm away.

Fernando drops down, voice low, “Then save it. You’ll need it later.” There was no misconstruing the thinly veiled threat. “You can beat me in a race with your better car, but this, you don’t win. You lose. I promise that.” Fernando adds, seeming far too relaxed and Sebastian feels on edge, all that glee he had possessed ten minutes earlier dissipating.

He curls his fingers around his glass. “However this plays out, I’ll still have two more titles than you.” It was petty and it was low but he loves watching the fire light up in Fernando’s eyes at what he was sure was sore point.

“And I’ll still have Mark, even when he is not in F1.”

Sebastian slams his glass on the table as Fernando walks off.

The moment Fernando’s gone, Kimi was staring at him seriously and there may even with a hint of concern. “You’re fucked”

* * *

He wins.

He wins his fourth title.

Nothing really sinks in at the moment.

There’s Christian hugging him. Adrian.

And then Britta. And Heikki…Heikki who clings to him tightly tells him how proud he is.

And there was nothing, _nothing_ that could take this away, nothing that could remove him from his high. And this weekend, there was no Mark, no Fernando, both off licking their wounds he was sure. Because he won. He won and they had _nothing_.

If he could, he’d scream that to the world, just so they could hear it.

* * *

Sebastian sits back and stares at the gift he had spent the last two minutes wrapping up roughly. Heikki was packing up his things for their flight. He holds up the small package for Heikki to see when he walks out of his room with his suitcase.

“Who is it for?”

Sebastian grins. “Mark. I got him some tissues so he can wipe up his tears that I beat him for the fourth year in a row. Maybe he will share them with Fernando?” Technically he had beaten them both five years running, but he won’t count the first year with Mark’s leg injury, he was big enough to let that one slide and call it a draw.

Heikki’s eyes go cold, and that muscle in his jaw tenses as he stands there clearly refraining from a response.

“Please, spare me the lecture,” Sebastian waves his hand at Heikki in the hopes to remove the dark look from his face as he leans back and pop his feet on the table. “I won. I won the race, won the championship. And their precious little relationship isn’t so fucking perfect.” And if he sounded smug, Sebastian didn’t care.

“When this blows up in your face Sebastian, I am not fixing this. That is not a warning, but a promise.”

“And I can look after myself,” Sebastian shrugs dismissively. “What are they going to do?”

Heikki just shakes his head, telling him in Finnish to get off his ass. They had a flight to make.

* * *

Abu Dhabi comes and goes. And there’s nothing. Sebastian feels himself getting more and more on edge. He’d hit Mark last, the ball was in his court so to speak, and yet there was no response. Nothing. Silence. Mark kept to himself, and there was no more snide comments from Fernando. It was almost like everything was _normal_. But it wasn’t… was it? Were they done? He doubted Mark would let him get the last shot in, he doubted Fernando would let him just keep one over them.

He might have just won the title, but Sebastian didn’t have any spring in his step, the bounce gone as he spent his time being extra cautious around the garage or in the vicinity of Red Bull.

But his caution over the situation was unneeded, at least this weekend. The race came and went, and there’s no contact from either Mark or Fernando that’s out of the ordinary. There was nothing and there was only two races left.

_Two races left._

The thought hits him as he was pulling his shoes off in his hotel room.

_Two races left. With Mark._

And then what? They were done? Finished? Him and Mark just ended their fucked up association with each other? He knew Mark was retiring, he hadn’t forgotten he had just… not thought about it.

“Sebastian?”

Heikki walks in on him hugging his sock.

“What’s wrong?”

Sebastian blinks and raises his eyes to his trainer. “Mark only has two races left.”

“Yes,” Heikki confirms, “There is only two races left…” He speaks slowly, clearly not sure of the point.

“And next year I’ll have Daniel…” Suddenly his chest is feeling like its being squeezed. Why hadn’t he thought about this before? Thought about the end… He didn’t want Daniel.

“Are you okay Sebastian?” Heikki moves to sit next to him, the envelope he hadn't noticed in Heikki’s hand dropped to his feet to rub his back soothingly. “Change isn’t a bad thing.”

If he had a choice nothing would change. Mark would be his teammate. No rules would change. He’d keep on winning and life would be perfect. Next year, none of that would be the case. Looking at Heikki, Sebastian murmurs, “Two races left. Season done. And Mark won’t talk to me.”

“You sent him tissues two weeks ago. What did you expect?” Heikki reminds him sharply. “Hugs and kisses?”

 _Kisses_. His face flushes at the memory of his brief but heated make out session with Mark a few weeks back. Heikki immediately averts his gaze, bending down to pick up the envelope. “Speaking of change, we need to talk.”

“What’s this?” Ripping open the package after it's offered to him, Sebastian’s heart stops.

Heikki’s contract. Unopened.

“I’m not going to be your trainer next year Sebastian. I think you need a fresh perspective in your life.”

The tightening Sebastian had in his chest disappears. It doesn’t hurt when you stop breathing.

“This is not a reflection on how I feel about you, but that I believe new influences will be good, especially for your training…”

Sucking in air Sebastian finds his voice. “Bullshit. Fucking bullshit!” He gasps because there really was a severe lack of air in the room all of a sudden. Heikki didn’t leave him! That’s not how this ended! “

Sebastian,” Heikki says his name gently and the moment his hand rubs his back Sebastian jumps to his feet.

“No! No don’t touch me!” Despite still short of breath, he shouts, he shouts in the hopes to cover the building panic because this wasn’t happening. “Do not pretend this is professional. This is because of my ¬non-obsession with Mark! This is because I won’t be with you!”

“No,” Heikki’s denial comes out short and sharp, and to stop himself from charging at his trainer and shaking him, Sebastian’s hands curl into fists.

“Stop it! Tell me the truth! Say something! You can’t just say you’re leaving and not tell me _why_!”

“Sebastian,” Heikki finally raises his voice, maybe to be heard over his shouting, “Shut up! Keep your voice down! I told you my reasons, it is you trying to twist this into something else. It’s simple, not complicated. You need new people to keep you at your best. You know that, it is why you hired me in the first place.”

Sebastian shakes his head. He wasn’t letting this happen. “You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me.” He hisses each word as a promise. Heikki was everything. He _needed_ Heikki.

The only sign that those words irritate or infuriate Heikki is the flare of the Finn's nostrils. “And that is the problem,” Heikki gets to his feet slowly. “You are demanding. You are selfish. You are –“

“And that’s what makes me great! That’s what makes me win! You used to say that!” Tears are burning in the corners of his eyes but Sebastian refuses to let them spill as Heikki closes the distance between them. “You can’t tell me to be those things to win and then say they are the reason why you’re leaving me! That is not fair!”

Heikki’s hands grasp his face and as his piercing gaze blurs behind tears, tears that he has to blink away. “You didn’t let me finish,” Heikki’s thumb catches one of his tears when it brushes his cheek. “You are too dependent on me.”

“So what!” The fury from earlier is fast fading away.

“Dependent and yet you seem to listen to me less and less. Not because you disrespect me but because…” Heikki trails off before shrugging, a sad smile on his face. “I don’t know the words. Maybe because you did make me yours? You don’t listen when you don’t want to because you know I won’t leave.”

There’s a flicker at those words; hope. Sebastian reaches out to grip Heikki’s shirt. “I’ll listen. I can. I’ll do better. I promise. I promise Heikki.” He throws himself at Heikki then, circles his arms around Heikki’s shoulders determined to do everything in his power to show him he could do better, that they still worked. “Anything you want. I’ll do anything. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

Pushing his face into Heikki’s shoulder, Sebastian just tightened his grip. He wasn’t letting him go till he agreed to stay. But Heikki is still, hands by his sides, seemingly unmoved at the words. “Heikki,” Sebastian chokes out his name in one final plea, “ _Please_.”

And finally a hand falls to the back of his head, Heikki’s sigh seeing him deflate as he pushes his face into the side of his. There’s a gentle press of lips against his temple before Heikki murmurs, “I just want the best for you Sebastian. You have to trust me. In everything. I don’t want you hurt.”

“I trust you,” Sebastian interrupts him viciously finally shifting his face back to look up at Heikki. “I trust you more than anyone. Let me prove it. Please.”

There’s the tiniest nod of Heikki’s head as he finally relents. “Okay.” His fingers push through Sebastian’s hair and it’s nice, comforting and Sebastian lets himself relax into him. “Okay, I’ll let you prove it.”

The relief flooding through Sebastian isn't enough to completely wash away the fear of Heikki’s absence.

“One condition Sebastian, the only condition really.” Heikki’s face was serious as Sebastian looked at him expectantly, determined to fulfil whatever the request. “For the rest of the season, your contact with Mark and Fernando is for professional reasons only. No phone calls. No texts. No talking. Nothing. You leave Brazil having fulfilled that, and I’ll sign the contract. Prove that I’m wrong and I’m yours for another year.”

“That’s it?” Sebastian dropped his head back to his shoulder and nuzzled his face against his shirt. He’d already beaten them, on track and at their stupid game…

“Promise me Sebastian. Give me your word and I will give you mine to stay.”

“I promise.” Sebastian closes his eyes as Heikki wraps himself around him giving him a proper hug, murmuring something in Finnish he doesn’t quite make out. “I promise,” he repeats.

* * *


End file.
